Cabin Pressure: A Dickensian Christmas
by ko-writes
Summary: Martin's been getting thinner recently, the mood swings are awful. Carolyn thinks he should stop being so miserable and get on with it... Until Christmas eve, when she's visited by four very familiar apparitions...
1. Chapter 1

"C-Carolyn. I-I was wondering… A-about my w-wage…?" Martin stuttered.

"Take double," Carolyn smirked.

"I'm serious, Knapp-Shappey!" Martin yelled as he kicked the chair, snapping one of its legs in two.

Martin had been having really bad mood swings lately; continuously alternating from anger, to violence (the poor chair), to depression (he'd cried the other day because the door latch stuck), to mania (he laughed for a full hour yesterday day at a joke Arthur read out from a Christmas cracker).

Martin blinked and seemed to return to his 'normal' self. "Oh, God. I-I-I'm s-sorry! Shouldn't break things…"

"Just go away and stop talking about wages," She dismissed. Martin hung his head and walked out of the portacabin, shoulders slumped.

She returned to her paperwork. _A profit!_ Martin was very useful this year.

Carolyn hardly noticed Douglas swanning in – twenty minutes late – until he gasped. "What happened to the chair?"

"Martin," She answered simply, rolling her eyes, "If it didn't cost money, I'd send him on an anger management course."

"Aren't you worried about him?!" Douglas demanded.

"I don't really care. His problems are just that – his," Carolyn shrugged.

Douglas was about to rebottle when the door to the crashed open. Arthur was leading a miserable, limping Martin into the portacabin. "It's ok, Skip," Arthur soothed.

Douglas saw the brick dust on his knee along with blood seeping through the polyester. "Martin? What happened?" Douglas asked, concerned.

"I-I might have g-gotten f-frustrated…" Martin stuttered. Arthur helped him sit down on the sofa and sat beside him, Douglas did the same.

Martin's knuckles were a torn, bloody mess. "What happened to your knuckles, Martin?" Douglas asked, but the captain broke down into tears.

"Skip wouldn't stop punching the wall…" Arthur explained.

"Martin; stop sobbing, calm down and go home. You should learn not to be so hot headed," Carolyn huffed before going back to her paperwork. It was suddenly very quiet – besides Martin's attempt at stifling his sobs and hiccups.

She looked up. Arthur's jaw hung open; his eyes bulged, filling with disappointment, and his brow furrowed. Douglas looked ready to beat her to death at any moment. "Come on, Arthur; let's get Martin patched up elsewhere…" Douglas grabbed the first aid kit and the steward and first officer lead a still sobbing Martin out of the door.

Carolyn sighed, she just wanted to be in her own bed.


	2. Chapter 2

Carolyn lay down; she closed her eyes against the memory of Martin's kicked-puppy-that-fell-in-a-freezing-cold-lake look. He had been getting thinner recently, and those mood swings… No. She wasn't going to feel guilty. Martin agreed to nothing when he signed the contract, and she could always double it.

She wasn't sure when she had fallen asleep, but she was woken by a pressure dipping the mattress at her side.

Her eyes blinked open and found the source of the disturbance. "Karl?" she questioned.

The ATC smiled and nodded, "Yes, that's me."

Carolyn was suddenly very aware she was only in a nightie. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"A friendly warning," Karl stated.

"What warning?"

"Tonight you will be visited by three spirits. Don't worry, they aren't dead. But one isn't in much better of a condition than you're plane…"

"Excuse you. And why would I worry?"

"They are rather… familiar."

"What do you –?"

"Alpha Romeo Tango Hotel Uniform Romeo; you are cleared," and with that, Karl vanished.


	3. Chapter 3

Carolyn didn't hear a ghastly moan or rattling chains. She heard a childish giggle as someone ran through the wall. "Brilliant!" Oh no. Alpha Romeo Tango Hotel Uniform Romeo – Arthur. "Hi mum!"

"Arthur –"

Her son quickly sobered. "Sorry mum, no time. I have to show you something…"

"What is it?"

"Just hold my hand…" Carolyn took her son's hand, but they weren't in her bedroom anymore.

It was a small, dark attic with dusty boxes and cobwebs. "This is a sad one; but remember, he's dead. But I've seen this before; I might have to stop it…" Arthur frowned, Carolyn didn't understand.

"Alright, dear heart."

"_Martin Crieff_!" A gruff voice yelled.

Suddenly, a short boy sprinted through the door and hid behind the boxes. He shook so violently, Carolyn thought he was having some sort of seizure.

"_Get down here, you little shit_!" The voice yelled again.

The boy placed his hands together, tears streaming down his face, whispering almost inaudibly; but Carolyn heard "Pleathe don't let him find me…" is a small lisp.

The door slammed open and a large man stood in the doorway. "I know you're in here, you little bastard…"

Little Martin involuntarily squeaked. The man turned to the boy, Carolyn backed up in case he saw them, "It's ok, they can't see or hear us…" Arthur informed with a grim tone. Carolyn wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

The man smiled a very unnerving smile. "There you are…"

The man stalked over to the boxes and grabbed little Martin by the arm, yanking him up. "Dad!" Martin squeaked. The man – Martin's father – drew back his fist and –

"Stop!" Arthur yelled, the image froze, "I can't watch that again!"

"Arthur –"

"Sorry mum, I can't watch him do that to Skip again…" Arthur looked like he was about to cry.

"Arthur, dear heart, what's wrong?"

"He slaps Skip then keeps punching him and kicking him and then throws him down the stairs!"

"Arthur, what did we just watch?"

"Christmas day, 1981 – the day Martin's dad hurt him so much; he had to go to hospital."

Carolyn was speechless. Martin's dad beat him? "Why are you showing me this?"

"You are really, really mean to Skip, mum. It needs to stop. He's had such a hard life…" Arthur sighed.

"I'll be nice to him when he becomes competent and stops breaking my furniture," She huffed.

Arthur only sighed, defeated. Carolyn felt a little bad about it… "Alright. I don't have any more time left. I'll take you back…"

When Carolyn blinked, she found herself back in her bed, Arthur nowhere in sight. Just Karl leaning against the wardrobe.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Text

"Hello again," Karl greeted, "Nice time?"

"No, it bloody wasn't! Why did you get Arthur to show me that?!"

"You need to learn to be kinder to Martin; life isn't exactly fair to the poor boy…"

"Since when do you care for him?"

"Since a few weeks ago. A man doesn't go from fairly mind mannered – though anxious and prissy – to exploding with rage, violence, depression and mania over nothing!" Karl huffed, "And you don't care at all!"

"Martin's problems are his own –"

"Dear God, woman! Delta Oscar Uniform Golf Lima Alpha Sierra, take over before I hit her!" Karl groaned before vanishing.

There was the sound of light jazz piano and the smooth, syrupy greeting of, "Hello, Carolyn."


	5. Chapter 5

"Douglas?!" She gasped.

"Well, didn't Arthur throw you off-kilter. Hope you have your seatbelt on, this may hurt. It's not quite as bad as Arthur's for _you_, but it's sad," Douglas sighed, "I hope I can stand it again…"

"You knew Arthur was here?"

"We had a briefing," Douglas groaned.

"What? Is Martin joining us as well?" Carolyn smirked, but Douglas just looked upset.

"Let's just get this over with," Douglas huffed before grabbing her hand.

It was outside the Portacabin, snowing. A sprig of Mistletoe was tied above the door – no doubt Arthur's doing.

There was muffled talking from inside the Portacabin. "So the tall one says that I'm obviously an airline captain but am not paid – which made the short one snort – then he asked me what he missed and I said it's an airdot, not an airline. He actually _growled_! Anyway – after unloading those sixteen bags of organs for him from St Bart's Hospital, long story short, I'm not doing any deliveries to Bakerstreet again unless I'm desperate!"

The door opened to reveal Martin and Douglas giggling. They stepped outside, and that's when Douglas saw the berried sprig. "Look Martin… Mistletoe…" Douglas stepped towards Martin, drawing the younger man closer.

"Douglas…?" Martin breathed.

"Please," Douglas sighed heavily before seizing Martin's lips in his own, "I love you."

Carolyn looked at Douglas the spirit, who was watching with a solemn expression.

"I never said I didn't love you…" Martin clarified as a tear rolled down his cheek.

"Then… Why? I love you, why can't you give me a chance?" Douglas asked, voice thick with unshed tears.

"I can't do that to you."

"But… Martin –"

"Goodbye Douglas. Merry Christmas." And with that Martin walked away to his van. Carolyn pretended not to notice the tears on both Douglas' faces.

"Apologies… It still hurts, it was only this evening," Spirit Douglas sighed, wiping away tears.

"No, it's… fine. I didn't even know you two were…" Carolyn let her voice fade.

"I want to be, but he's scared. I only found out why when I watched this. We're going over to Martin's."

Douglas took her hand. They were in Martin's attic. The young man was curled up on a mattress with a blanket thrown on it; not even a lone pillow. The room was more-or-less bare and there was something strangely green and mould-like growing in the corner.

Martin's stomach growled and he let out a sob of pain. "Why doesn't he get something to eat instead of crying?" Carolyn huffed, but she saw the way Douglas had screwed his eyes closed.

"There's nothing for him to eat; it was rent or food, he chose to have a roof over his head, but now it's getting painful… That's why he's having those mood-swings, it's not temper, it's malnutrition," Douglas struggled to inform.

"We can stop if you want…" Carolyn offered.

"No. You need to see this," Douglas dismissed.

Martin fumbled with a pill bottle, but lost his grip and it fell to the floor. He curled up even more and sobbed in frustration. "What is it?" Carolyn asked.

"Anti-depressants…" Douglas frowned, "I'll take you back now… I don't have much time left."

Douglas took her hand and she was back at home, Douglas disappeared without saying a word


	6. Chapter 6

Karl had now taken a seat on top of the wardrobe, of all places. "One more left. Any sympathy to offer before that?"

"I didn't know he was depressed and starving – but that is _his_ problem! He agreed to no pay!"

"He was desperate!" Karl yelled, "He would have done _anything_! You're just taking advantage!"

"I can't pay him!"

"You can! You earned a profit!"

"But – But – But –"

"Mike Alpha Romeo Tango India November, you are cleared for haunting."

The sound of whirling spitfire jets filled the air and a skinny figure with a mop of ginger curls sat hunched in the corner. Oh no. No, just no.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Text

"Martin?" Carolyn questioned.

The captain gave a pained whimper, "Y-yes… H-hurts…"

"What hurts?"

"So hungry…" Martin struggled against gritted teeth.

"I can get you something –"

"It won't help, no time," Martin struggled. He staggered to his feet, hand still clamped onto his abdomen, and took her hand in cold, bony fingers.

They were in a hospital room. Douglas was arranging a bouquet of red roses in a vase at the bedside, obscuring Carolyn and Martin's view of the patient. "Martin?" Carolyn inquired.

Douglas walked over to the other side of the bed, allowing Carolyn to see the skinny, ginger-haired patient hooked up to several beeping machines with wires and tubes; she was speechless.

"Hello, Martin," Douglas greeted sadly. "I think you've had enough beauty sleep now, don't you think? Please… Wake up." Douglas blinked away tears, "Please Martin. It's been almost a year. The doctors… The doctors are talking about pulling the plug…"

"Martin… What happened?" Carolyn asked.

"I fell into a hypoglycaemic coma while driving my van, which swerved into the wrong lane, where it was hit by an oncoming lorry," Martin stated, barely keeping it together, but the physical pain seemingly forgotten, "This is eleven months from that accident. I'm still in a coma, only surviving because of those machines. This is Christmas eve, 2015."

"But that's only next year!" Carolyn gasped.

"Yes, it is," Martin replied simply.

"Look, Martin," Douglas tried to smile as he rummaged through a bag at his side, taking out a small box. "It's the model Spitfire you wanted. I saw it on our last flight together and bought it especially. Do you like it?"

Martin, spirit Martin, broke into tears and ran to Douglas, trying to hug him. "I love it, Douglas," He sobbed, "And I love you. I'm sorry…" Martin tried to kiss the older man, but couldn't.

"If you want to give me a present, you can try waking up…" Douglas offered. Tears rolled down Carolyn's cheeks.

Simon, Caitlin and Wendy entered. "Douglas…" Wendy began, "We think it's time to give up hope…"

"What?" Douglas paled.

"Would Martin want this, Douglas?" Caitlin asked softly, "To be stuck in limbo, stay in the dark?"

"He's a fighter, he can come back…"

"We all thought so, Douglas," Simon interjected, "But it's been almost a year; he isn't coming back. You need to say goodbye, the doctor will be here in an hour."

Douglas looked at the clock; five minutes past eleven. "You're going to kill your son, your brother, on Christmas day?"

"No Douglas," Wendy smiled sadly, "We're setting him free on Christmas day."

Martin paused the picture. "I'm going to skip ahead an hour," he informed sadly. Carolyn nodded as the scene around her sped by, like a film in fast motion.

Wendy had her hand in her son's hair when the scene slowed to normal pace; she ran her fingers through his ginger curls. "You're going to be an angel, Marty," she sighed, "With beautiful wings so you can fly anywhere you want, feel the wind on your face, everything you wanted since you were just a little three year old boy. Between you and me, you're going to be the most beautiful, I know you will. And they'll love you, Marty. Please promise you'll enjoy yourself. Goodbye, son." She kissed his forehead and moved back.

Caitlin went over to Martin. "Martin, I want you to know I love you, and so do Elsie and Daniel. You're their amazing uncle Martin. They loved those stories about MJN; Arthur's cooking Carolyn's humour," She looked to Douglas, "Douglas' wit; as do I. We'll all miss you, Marty. And as mum says, I hope you enjoy flying…" Caitlin made room for Simon.

"Martin, I know we didn't always see eye-to-eye; but I hope you know, deep down, that I love you too. God… If I could take back everything I said, everything I did, I would in a heartbeat," he laughed humourlessly, "Probably not the best phrase to use. We all love you, Martin, and you'll be sorely missed; but mum's right, you'll be a bloody good angel."

Simon let Douglas come to Martin's bedside. "Martin, I love you dearly. I regret all the teasing that went too far. Goodbye, Mon Capitan; please wait for me… I won't be too long behind you…"

"No, Douglas…" The spirit whispered. Douglas kissed Martin's forehead.

As the church bells rang for Christmas day, the doctors turned off the machines. "Merry Christmas, captain," Douglas tearfully sighed.

Carolyn turned to the spirit. Her cheeks were tearstained, but his more-so. 2we have one more place to go, and then I'll take you back." He gripped her hand harder than before.

They were in a graveyard, in front of a marble tombstone. 'Martin Crieff. 19th July 1976 – 25th December 2015. May now his soul take flight, happiness follow'.

"I don't know if I can stand this…" Carolyn sniffed.

"I don't know if I'll be able to watch what happens next…" Martin sobbed.

Douglas walked up the grassy hill and sat by Martin's tombstone. "Hello, Martin. I held out until the New Year – it will be midnight in…" Douglas glanced at his watch, "One minute. Well, I don't exactly want to reach the New Year." Carolyn gasped as Douglas took a gun out of his pocket. "This was my dad's he left it to me when he died; one bullet left. How poetic."

There was a distant chant from the city centre. "Five! Four –!"

"I'll see you soon, Martin," Douglas smiled as he put the gun in his mouth. Carolyn couldn't watch.

"Two! O –!"

"Stop!" Martin yelled, "I can't watch him do that again! I'm taking you home, Carolyn. Just – please!"

Carolyn stared at the paused FO; gun held in his mouth, about to pull the trigger. Martin took her hand, taking her back to the bedroom.

"I don't understand!" She announced, "You starving, poor, depressed; but you don't look that bad!"

"It's a façade," he admitted, "Sometimes, all it takes is a strong breeze…" Martin blew on his hand, it degraded and blew away, like fine sand. Martin vanished


	8. Chapter 8

"Geeet dressed you merry gentlemen, let nothing you dismay, for it is Christmas Christmas Christmas Christmas Christmas Day!" Arthur sang, bursting through Carolyn's door with a bang, "It's Christmas Christmas Christmas Christmas Christmas Christmas Day…!"

"Arthur?" Carolyn gasped, the wind knocked out of her. Was it all a dream?

"It is Chri-i-i-i-i-istmas Day, Christ-i-mas Day, it is Chri-hi-hi-hi-hi-hi-histmas Day!"

"Arthur, light of my life, do shut up!" Carolyn ordered.

"Sorry, mum…" Arthur frowned.

"No, I'm sorry Arthur… Bad dream, that's all –"

"Oh, mum! You didn't have a bad dream on Christmas Eve!" Arthur was at her side in seconds, wrapping her up in a bone-crushing hug.

"Yes, yes, I did," She choked out, "But I need you to do something. Now."

"What mum?" Arthur released her and she slumped forward.

"Oh dear… Right. Arthur, I need you to go to the turkey farm an hour away; you've been there before, remember?" Carolyn asked hopefully.

"With the swans, too?"

"They were _geese_, dear heart. Do you remember the way?"

"I think so…"

"Good," Carolyn smiled, then walked over to her purse. She took out two hundred pounds in notes from the client the day before, "Go up to the farm house, knock on the door, tell farmer Gwynne I sent you and ask for the biggest turkey he's got."

"Then what?"

"Give him the money. When the turkey's ready, come back here, we have a lot of work to do. Get going now!" Carolyn shoed Arthur out of the door, with the car keys, and called after him, "Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen! To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!" As Arthur started the car and drove away.

She chuckled as she returned to the house and checked the time; six o'clock. She could do a lot before midday.

She ran to the kitchen, tying her apron (let no one know she owned a frilly one) and set to work.


End file.
